Wisdom to be Just
by Ariyah
Summary: Not long after his coronation, Edmund is overwhelmed by the weight of his responsibilities. When Aslan gives him a chance to ask for what he wants in regard to his rule, the young king makes an unusual request. Little does he know that a coming test may well define him in the eyes of the Narnians. By Ariel of Narnia.
1. The Petition

**Disclaimer:** I was not born November 29, 1898. I wasn't even alive by November 22, 1963. And I did not conjure the image of a faun carrying parcels in a snowy wood. On that note, I didn't even know what fauns were till 2005….

* * *

_"Long live King Peter! Long live King Edmund! Long live Queen Susan! Long live Queen Lucy!"_

He tossed and turned. In his dreams, he heard the merfolks' song wafting into the Great Hall. He smelled the salty breeze that carried the song to his ears. He saw the Narnians bow reverently.

He felt the weight of the silver crown.

Edmund sat up in his bed. The dreams were not particularly troubling, but they had a tendency to overwhelm him with his new responsibilities. He closed his eyes and slowly inhaled. Rubbing his hands over his face, he sighed, "Oh, Aslan." The soft sound of waves on the surf came through his open balcony doors. _Maybe a walk will help._ He swung his legs out of bed and pulled on some clothes. He reached for the door handle, but stopped himself. _No guards. I want to be alone. So much for a walk on the beach._ He decided he would have to content himself with standing on the balcony. That is, until he raided a closet instead and began to knot sheets together. He dragged his armload of makeshift rope to the balcony and secured one end to the railing before pitching the rest over and shimmying down.

The grass was cool to Edmund's bare feet and the moon lit the night. He took especial care to slip past the stables and pasture as silently as possible. Rousing the horses – especially the Talking Ones – wouldn't help his case any. Once he reached the gardens, he breathed a little easier. It took longer than he expected, but he finally found the side door that would let him out. It opened onto a narrow shelf of cliff that overlooked the Eastern Ocean. _I'll have to come back during the day to climb it_, he told himself. _If I'm not too busy ruling, that is_. He could almost feel the crown on his head again. As though to assure himself of the crown's absence, he ran his hand through his hair. "I don't know if I can do this."

Edmund followed the shelf down until he reached the beach. He picked up a few moonlit pebbles as his feet took him east till the water lapped at his feet. One by one, he threw the pebbles into the water. _What if I don't do well? I'm too young; what do I know of running a nation? What if I let everyone down? Narnia… Peter, Susan, and Lucy? Or… or Aslan?_ He couldn't bear the thought of _that_.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and began to walk down the beach. He barely noticed when he passed Cair Paravel entirely as he continued southward. However, he _did_ notice deep impressions in the sand. He crouched to inspect them. _Pawprints_. He lightly traced his fingers around the edge of one of the prints, touching what the waves had somehow not erased. _His pawprints_. Massive, deep. Edmund looked up a little to follow the tracks with his eyes. But there was no need, for the paws themselves stood before him. "Aslan."

"My son."

Edmund could only look at the Lion's paws.

"What troubles you, Son of Adam?"

Edmund swallowed. "Aslan… I'm not a very good choice for a king."

"I do not make wrong choices, Son of Adam."

Edmund let those words sink in. _He never makes mistakes. That is very comforting to know, but… but what if I fail anyway?_ He licked his lips. "You've made me king, but I'm just a kid. I don't know anything about ruling a nation. I don't want to fail You or the Narnians. I don't want to rule the way… _she_ did." He shuddered as the memory of a cold, white face – _her_ face – flashed before his eyes.

"Then ask what I shall give you."

Edmund's eyes met His. Massive, deep. "All I ask, Aslan, is that You grant me wisdom to be just, so that I may rule as You'd have me to."

Aslan's lips turned up in a smile. "A wise request, Son of Adam, and one that I gladly grant. And because such was your request, I will bless the endeavours of your hands and you will rise in honour."

The weight of responsibility was no less, but the burden of worry dissipated from the young king. "Thank you, Aslan, thank you!" he exclaimed as he leapt up to embrace the Lion.

"And now, my child, you must rest."

A warm and cozy feeling overcame Edmund's senses. "Mmm, sleep," he said as his voice faded into Aslan's mane.

.0.

In the light of a golden sunrise, Edmund found himself back under his covers. _Was it just a dream?_ The balcony railing was free of sheets for they lay crisp and folded in their closet. _But the door is wide open. It wasn't open before I'd pulled the sheets out_…. He got up and noticed that he was fully dressed. _Did I sleepwalk?_ He opened the bedroom door.

"Good morning, sire," the Fox guard greeted, bowing with a graceful sweep of his tail.

"Good morning," Edmund replied. _"Sire." Guess I'll have to get used to that._ "Please inform anyone who asks that I've gone for a ride before breakfast."

The Fox bowed again but Edmund couldn't help but catch his bewildered expression. Paying no heed to it, he raced out to the pasture.

"Phillip!"

The chestnut horse tossed his head and cantered over. "Good morning, sire!"

"And to you, Phillip. How do you feel about a ride down the beach?"

"A pleasure, my king."

Edmund used the fence to help him mount Phillip and, before long, they were on their way.

"Any particular reason for this early ride, sire?"

"Uh… I just… wanted to see what the beach looked like this morning?" he offered. He imagined Phillip wondering what could be so especially interesting about sand and water, but the Horse merely trotted on. Edmund saw that the beach was clear of all marks. He stopped Phillip at the very spot where he'd seen Aslan and slid off. A tiny ridge of sand caught his eye and he brushed his fingers against it just a moment before a wave swept it away. "I don't understand," he mumbled to himself. "Was it a dream or wasn't it?"

"A dream, sire?"

Edmund smiled and mounted up again. "Well, if it was a dream, it was a jolly good one. What say we gallop back?"


	2. The Test

"And what have you to say in your defence?"

The young Wolf looked Edmund square in the eye. "I offer no defence but this: is it unlawful to roam the land freely? Must I be judged for this mere action because of my ancestry?"

Edmund returned the Wolf's gaze. "No on both counts. Release him."

An incredulous gasp escaped the lips of a few in the court. "B-but, sire!" sputtered a Sparrow as he nervously fluttered his wings.

Edmund raised his hand. "Shall the offspring suffer for the crimes of his father?" He looked again into the yellow eyes of the Wolf. "The son of Maugrim has done no wrong. Release him."

The Wolf bowed low. "You are wise and just beyond your tender years."

Edmund thought of his encounter with Aslan – dreamt or not – a couple months back. "Thank the Lion, for it is He Who gives all good things."

The Wolf bowed again, then preceded his satyr guards out of the great hall. Edmund passed his hand across his forehead briefly. _Not yet midday and yet I wish for no further audiences. _He was half-tempted to simply dismiss the assembly for the day. He was about to call for a break but was interrupted.

"The fauns Clover and Arwa," an attendant announced.

Edmund straightened a little. _It wouldn't hurt to do another_, he reasoned to himself. He watched as two female fauns approached. One carried an infant faun while the other hovered not far away. "Please, state your case," Edmund told them.

The hovering faun stepped forward. "My king," she said, bowing, "I am Clover; this is Arwa. We married brothers. When the high king, your brother, called upon our husbands to battle remnants of the White Witch's followers not a month ago, I went to stay with her for we were both with child. She gave birth to a son two days before I also bore a son. We helped each other and no one else had witnessed the births."

Edmund, while concentrated on Clover, constantly shot quick glances at Arwa. Clover's hair was a little lighter than that of her sister-in-law. Arwa stood about an inch taller than Clover. But the greatest difference he noted was in their faces: Clover's expression was one of distress, while Arwa bore a grim determination.

"Three nights ago," Clover continued, "her son died in the night, for she had rolled onto him. And while I slept, she took my own son from me and laid her dead son in my arms. I woke in the morning to tend to my child, but I looked and saw that the dead infant I held was not mine."

Edmund pursed his lips. "This is a strong accusation if you speak truly. Will you answer the charge, Arwa?"

Arwa looked first at him, then turned to Clover. "She speaks falsely, my lord, for the living child is mine and the dead one is hers. She wishes to take my son from me to soothe her aching and bitter heart."

"How can you so mock my grief?" Clover wailed. "Do I not know my own son when I see him?"

"Your grief has made you blind and your conscience weighs heavy for your deed."

"Salil is _my_ son!"

"Yes, and he's _dead_!"

"Ladies, please!" Edmund cried out, both as a plea and as a command. He was half-amazed to see them cease at his word. The entire court was watching him. Two pairs of eyes asked him for the infant. He struggled to control his trembling voice and calm his pounding heart. "I need to take the matter into careful consideration. We will return in half an hour." Without waiting for a response of any kind, he rose and fled the great hall as discreetly as he could.

Edmund didn't even know where he was going, nor did he care. Just so long as he could think. _Aslan, what do I do?_ his heart cried out. He eventually found himself on a balcony overlooking the Eastern Ocean. Leaning on the railing, he wracked his mind for an answer, but to no avail. _I can't. I can't! How can I judge a thing like this?_ He took off his crown in frustration and laid it near him on the railing. _Where are they when I need them? Why are they in that very room when the easy cases are presented yet not when difficult ones come?_ He knew that wasn't entirely true, but he didn't bother to correct himself. _Peter's fighting somewhere in the west. Susan's occupying the Calormenes till I join them for lunch. And even Lucy's gone to the Seven Isles with Mr. Tumnus!_ He considered asking Susan for help, but he knew – from experience gained the night before – what pompous and easily-offended folk Calormene emissaries were. No, he was on his own for this one.

_Get a grip on yourself, Ed_, he commanded himself as he clutched a handful of his thick hair. _Think. They both claim the living child. Clover was insistent. Arwa was more composed and offered little response_... _Oh, Aslan, which is the true mother?_ He rubbed his forehead. If he simply gave the baby to one of them, he could be giving him to the wrong one. Clover's distress could mean that she was his mother… or she could be trying to steal him to ease the passing of her own son. Arwa's silence could mean that she was guilty of stealing the child… or maybe she was simply confident that the Clover's lies wouldn't be believed.

He pounded his fist on the railing. "Aslan," he groaned, turning and sitting down with his back against the railing. "I don't know what to do. I need Your help. I can't do this on my own." A tear of frustration clouded his vision for a brief moment before he fought it back. "All I ask," he whispered, "is that You grant me wisdom to be just, so that I may rule as You'd have me to. Wisdom to be just, as You'd have me to."

He continued to try to puzzle through the issue, but still no conclusion came to him. When he sensed that it was time to return to the great hall, he reached up to use the railing to pull himself up. As he did so, he felt his fingertips push his crown away. "Whoa!" he exclaimed to himself as he leapt up and grabbed it from the ledge. "That could have gone worse," he muttered to himself.

On his way back to the great hall, Edmund stopped in front of a hallway mirror to set the crown back on his head. _Maybe I could just have someone else take care of the baby until we can determine who_…. He looked hard at the silver circlet that contrasted heavily with his dark hair. He thought of the way he'd grabbed for it on the balcony. _Maybe it can be determined now after all._

.0.

"Bring me the child."

Arwa and the wee faun in her arms met Edmund at the foot of the dais stairs. The young king feared to take the fragile creature himself, but he inspected the round face, the equally round brown eyes, and curly locks. As he feared, he couldn't find any obvious characteristics of either mother faun.

_Aslan, I'm taking a great risk. Please don't let this go wrong_…. He waved a guard over and addressed the two claimants. "As neither of you will give up your claim to the child, I have decided on a solution." The court seemed to hold its breath. Edmund would have held his along with them, but instead, he mustered his courage and his most authoritative tone. _Please let this work._ To the guard, he said, "Divide the child in two and give half to each."

There was a collective gasp and immediate talking throughout the hall. He saw Clover's eyes grow wide and her hands fly to her mouth. Arwa looked at Edmund with a surprised expression, but held out the baby in the guard's direction. "If you deem just, your majesty," she said.

Throat tight, Edmund nodded at the incredulous guard, who reluctantly raised his sword. Edmund squeezed his eyes and fists together. _Aslan, please!_

"Please, your majesty!" Clover cried as she sprung forward. "Have mercy on the child and let her take him!"

Edmund's eyes flew open and his hand shot out to stop the guard's sword-arm. "Stop! Give the baby to her, for she is his mother." The tension in the hall – and in the king himself – dissolved into joy as an attendant scooped the baby out of Arwa's resisting grasp and handed him to Clover. The court breathed at last. Edmund returned to his throne but didn't sit down.

"As for you, Arwa," Edmund said firmly, "I am sorry for the loss of your son, but you must be held accountable for your words and deeds. What say you?"

Arwa glared at him with a fire in her eyes. "You would deprive me of my child? You gave him to _her_ because she protested? Because she resisted your decision to divide him?" She laid one goat-hoof on the lowest dais step. "You take my child away because I was willing to submit to your judgement? Because I was obedient?"

Panic rushed into Edmund's chest and he sat down abruptly. _Aslan, what if –? _But just as quickly as it had come, it evaporated into peace. "No," he answered slowly, carefully. "I _returned_ Clover's child to her because you were _too_ obedient. I knew that the true mother would defend the child, not allow him to die. Things of value are not released easily." _Not my crown, not my brother in battle, and certainly not a mother's child._

"Not released easily," Arwa repeated with numbness that surprised Edmund. The fire had died to a glowing ember before even the ember was extinguished by a well of tears. The faun raised folded hands to her mouth as she lowered her head. Edmund cocked his head ever so slightly as her shoulders began to shake with inner sobs. "My son, my son," came the faintest of whispers.

Edmund watched as Clover gently laid a hand on Arwa's arm and turned her so they were face to face. The court looked on in astonishment as Clover embraced her sister-in-law with the one arm that did not hold her baby.

"I'm sorry," Arwa wept into Clover's shoulder. "I am so sorry."

Edmund thought of the time he'd been in a similar position. When he was the one who had wronged his family and was unworthy of their forgiveness. Clover rubbed Arwa's back to comfort her. "Forgiveness is yours, Arwa."

When the fauns at last parted, Arwa wiped her eyes dry before addressing Edmund. "My king, I confess that I have wronged my sister-in-law and her son and have testified falsely before you. Do with me as you deem just."

_Justice and mercy. Aslan, how do I balance judgement for her deed and mercy for her repentance? _"For your sake and that of others', you will be escorted and watched over by appointed guardians till Christmas-time." He nodded at a Falcon and a satyr nearby. "In the meantime, my only charge to you is that you see to it that Clover lacks nothing in raising her child till this time next year. Go in Lion's peace." The fauns bowed deeply – and with heartfelt gratitude from Clover – and exited the great hall, followed by the Falcon and satyr guardians. Edmund breathed a sigh of relief. He saw the announcing attendant lay his ledger to rest. "That is all for today," he announced to his attendants. "I'm going rock-climbing." With that, he walked out of the hall with a whistle on his lips and his royal coat slung over his shoulder.

.0.

He looked around cautiously before slipping through the door in the eastern garden. He'd lost his bodyguards somewhere between his room and the garden door and he wasn't about to let them show up just to watch him climb. Safely on the other side of the wall, Edmund breathed in the salty tang of the ocean below and reveled in the freedom of it. He carefully looked down on the face of the cliff before him. _It's not too far nor does it look too hard_, he mused. He lay down on his stomach and slid his legs over the edge to find footholds. Handhold by handhold, foothold by foothold, he began to inch his way down the cliff.

A certain thrill of adventure coursed through his veins. Oh, certainly, he'd had some jolly good times in his short reign thus far, but those times hadn't quite had the same fun as a somewhat-naughty, unsupervised climb.

Scaling down took longer than Edmund had anticipated, but he felt very satisfied when at last he landed on the sand of the beach. The nearly-midday sun cast its reflection on the waves, causing them to sparkle as though they bore a million diamonds. He watched them contentedly – almost dreamily – for a minute before wading ankle-deep into them. He continued to look to the eastern horizon as his southbound feet meandered through the cool water and shifting sand. _Thank You, Aslan, for Your help. I couldn't have done it on my own._ Just as he thought this, his foot dropped a good inch or two lower than it should have. The water rolled away from his foot to reveal what he'd stepped into: a pawprint. One that dwarfed the size of Edmund's foot. Unspoilt by the waves. _His pawprint. _He looked up and his eyes immediately locked with two greater ones. "Aslan."

The Lion smiled. "My son. You passed the test."

"But only because You granted me the means to come by the answer. Thank You."

"You have done well not to forget My provision, Son of Adam. Continue to trust in Me as you have and I will reward."

"I won't forget, Aslan. I won't forget all that You've done for me."

"Very good, Son of Adam. But in the meantime, you seem to have forgotten something else."

Edmund cocked his head. "What is that?"

Aslan simply nodded toward something behind Edmund.

Edmund followed the Lion's gaze, back to Cair Paravel. _The Calormene emissaries! _he remembered with a start. He turned back to Aslan, but the Lion was gone. Water rushed past and he felt the sand flow over his feet. By the time the water left his feet alone, there was no trace of the pawprint. _Another dream?_ He pulled his feet out of the sand and ran back to Cair Paravel and the emissaries awaiting him.

As he did so, he thought he heard a faint chuckle. But he wasn't sure.

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**Author's notes: **Thanks to my dad for his advice on the Biblical portion of this, WillowDryad for her friendship and having pointed out something that _really_ needed fixing, OldFashionedGirl95 for volunteering her beta-services, and my other pre-post readers!

Taken from I Kings 3.

Please review!


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